A Cure For Boredom
by JellyBellys
Summary: While searching through the Chamber of Secrets for clues on the Horcruxes, something haunts Hermione. Oneshot


**Disclaimer:** J.K. is not JellyBellys. Therefore, JellyBellys is not J.K.

**Author Notes:** Wrote this for the lvhgbetrayal challenge at livejournal. This is the somewhat toned down version, I did not want to get kicked off of (Cross your fingers for me.) The naughtier version can be found at my personal lj and at aforementioned lvhgbetrayal.

** A Cure For Boredom **

If there was one thing he hated even more than the Mudbloods, more than Dumbledore, even more than the orphanage and his father, it was boredom.

It had seemed like a good idea at first; to have a part of himself able to re-open the chamber, to continue the work that had gotten so rudely interrupted with Myrtle's death. It had seemed an even better idea to split his soul into seven, to protect himself against the inevitable bite of mortality. But Lucius, the idiot, had given this part of his soul away to a stupid blood traitor of a girl, an insipid, re-haired brat, poor and whiny.

Then…_Potter_. Potter had made everything—well, there was no reason to dwell on it. Yet, all he _had_ was time to dwell on it. Boredom. It was seeping into every pore, every particle, every fiber of his being, driving him mad.

At the beginning, the endless years of the diary, it was at least tolerable; he could feed off his rage, he could fine tune his plans. The year with the brat had been full of excitement, a zeal for the kill, for the pure joy associated with manipulating a lesser mind than his own. But Potter…never mind.

Since then he had been at loose ends, wandering the chamber endlessly, his only company a rotting basilisk, scummy water, small animal bones, and statues. He didn't even have the dubious luxury of wandering throughout his memories anymore. He wasn't aware how much time had passed, but he _was _sure his grip on his sanity was slipping alarmingly fast.

But now all that was changing. Finally, something was intruding upon the boredom. And that something was standing before him, a figure clad in strange Muggle wear, a bushy brown halo of hair surrounding its head.

She (for he could see it was a she, despite the strange Muggle pants) was staring fixedly at Salazar Slytherin's statue. Apparently she thought it held the secrets of life, he thought with an inward sneer. He had no idea how she had managed to sneak into the chamber without him noticing her sooner, although… he _had_ been brooding in a large pipe system inside the chamber, so perhaps he had been so fixated…

The girl turned a bit, and he ducked further behind the stone snake he was hiding behind. She was running her hands over the surface, checking every inch for something…but _what_? He slowly walked closer to her, unworried about being discovered; her attention was focused solely on her search. Stopping behind her, he studied the back of her head intently.

If she would turn around, lock eyes with him… then he would know why she was here. Still he did not act, prolonging the moment of delicious anticipation, almost tasting the tension in the air. It didn't matter what her purpose for being here was originally. Now, she served a better purpose; curing his boredom.

He licked his lips, cocking his head slightly, practically quivering with excitement.

"Hello," he said pleasantly.

Immediately she spun around, her eyes open wide, her wand pointing at his face. He raised his hands, palms out, feigning supplication.

"There's no need for alarm, miss," he said soothingly. He had charmed girls before. Men, boys, and women too, if he was being honest. People certainly more powerful, more attractive than this girl, whose appearance at best was slightly above average. Her eyes narrowed.

"You're a ghost," she snapped, eyeing him defensively.

He looked down at himself, widening his own eyes in faux amazement.

"Why, I suppose I am" he said guilessly.

Her eyes narrowed further. It surprised him she could actually _see_ out of those slits in her face.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Bushy-head said shrilly. "You're a ghost, you're in the Chamber of Secrets, and you're wearing a Slytherin robe. If you think I don't know who you are…"

"Then you're one ahead of me," he said coldly, dropping the act. "I have no clue who you are, or what you are doing in this dank hole. I doubt anyone of your—_intelligence_," here he sneered again, "would answer me. Shall I guess your name then? Bushy McMuggle? Or maybe just Plain Jane?"

"It's Hermione Granger," she hissed, "and I know exactly what you're doing Riddle. But you know nothing about me, and I know everything about you."

He walked forward, a smile playing on his lips.

"Doubtful," he said, amused. "Very doubtful. I'd be surprised if you could even fathom even the outermost workings of a mind vastly superior to your own. But I know exactly who Hermione Granger is. Harry Potter's girlfriend, aren't you? A Mudblood bent on proving she belongs in a world where she's an abomination?"

"Enough small talk," the Mudblood snapped. "Leave me alone and get out of my way."

There. He locked eyes with her, holding her in place with his gaze. Tom pushed through the outermost thoughts of her mind, a smoky cloud of anger, despair, and yes, even fear. He inwardly smiled at that. The despair had nothing to do with him, however. This avenue was promising. He pushed deeper, out of her surface thoughts. Unexpectedly, he was thrown from her mind violently.

Tom staggered back a step, reeling at the shock of the Mudblood managing to end his Legilimens. He looked up furiously at the bitch, who was gasping for breath, one hand behind her on Salazar's statue for support. If he was furious, it was nothing compared to the fury on her face.

"You…"

_gasp_

"you…"

_gasp_

"sneaky little…"

_wheeze_

"bastard!"

Tom straightened up, holding in his own aftereffects of their encounter. The Mudblood was breathing a little easier by now.

"Stay the bloody hell out of my mind!" she hissed.

He smiled, wide and genuinely delighted. Just as he knew it would, this seemed to alarm her more than anything he had done so far. The beauty of it was that he wasn't even putting on an act. Before she had forcefully shoved him from her mind, he had seen all that he needed to know. While she gaped at him, breath still irregular, he took advantage of the situation magnificently.

Tom put out an arm, stretched full out, palm up, and snapped his fingers twice, smiling all the while. The Mudblood realized what was happening at the last moment, but it was too late. In her distraction, she had slackened her grip on her wand, and it flew effortlessly into Tom's hand.

One thing Tom had not seen in the Mudblood's mind, unfortunately for him, was what was contained in a pocket, what she was whipping out now.

Tom wasn't worried, merely irritated. Who knew the Mudblood had it in her to keep a spare wand? He had no doubt he could easily defeat her in a duel, even without his own wand, even if she _did _have _her_ own wand, which she didn't.

They were deadlocked, face to face, wand to wand. Really, he could end this whole charade in under a minute (and he was giving her a generous time estimate at that) but his long stint with boredom demanded more.

"This is tedious," he said aloud. "We both know I will win, and I will take what I need from you regardless," she looked insulted and defiant, but he could see the flicker behind that that betrayed her. She knew it, alright. Excellent. Maybe she would be sensible about the whole thing. Maybe she could cure his boredom. "However…I'm feeling generous," his smile didn't reach his cold eyes, "I'll offer you a trade."

"Why should I believe anything you say?" she spat at him. Despite her brave front, her wand shook slightly.

"Because I could have already killed you ten times over by now you stupid girl," Tom said, his smile stretching wider, "yet I haven't. Please, let's not waste time pretending you could beat me in a duel," Tom said, when she furiously opened her mouth to argue with him. "So now I will tell you your choices, you will decide, and you will cease your pointless resistance."

Apparently, his manipulative skills were more than a bit rusty. Her mouth curved into a snarl, her eyes narrowed, and her eyebrows peaked into hawkish points.

"You arrogant, presumptuous, **_unbelievably impossible_**—"

"I'll help you destroy the horcruxes."

Her mouth was still open, ready to spout more insults his way, but her eyes were wide and startled.

"You…what?" she finally asked weakly.

"Not only should you fix that crime against nature that you refer to as 'hair' as a favor to humanity, it seems it impairs your hearing as well. I **_said _**I will help you destroy the horcruxes. I know where they are, I know_ what_ they are, and I know how to destroy them. Then dear old Potter can take out that old man posing as a Dark Lord," Tom finished with a sneer.

"You bloody liar!" the girl shrieked, her voice rising with every syllable. Her shout echoed through the chamber again and again. "You haven't even made them all yet! How could you possibly know what they are and where they are?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Seven horcruxes. One; the diary. Two; Slytherin's locket. Three; Hufflepuff's cup. Four; Gaunt Family ring. Five; Old Baldy himself. Six: Baldy's familiar, most assuredly a serpent. Seven: The sword of Ravenclaw. And none of them are in this chamber; only me. And that horcrux was already destroyed, wasn't it?" his teeth glinted ominously as he smiled wider.

"If it was, than how are you possible?" The Mudblood asked.

"Couldn't tell you for sure," Tom said carelessly. "I suspect it is that the diary, as the first split, was the most powerful horcrux of all. I poured more of my soul into it than the others… the first was the most powerful… it could be any combination of things."

She still looked skeptical. "Tell me the deal," she said abruptly.

They locked eyes again, this time without legilimency involved.

"I need a power surge to make my body whole again. I believe little Ginny Weasley knows one way I can accomplish this," he couldn't resist smirking.

"Don't you dare-" she started to threaten.

"So no to giving up your Mudblood hide to bring me back whole?" he said pleasantly. "I thought as much. So, second and final option. We perform an ancient magic ritual to temporarily drain your strength to restore me to human form. Cast another old magic spell, both of us are as good as new. Then we can get out of this dank hole and I'll help you destroy the horcruxes," he finished.

She was staring at him frankly, a calculating look on her face that would have belonged better on a Slytherin. In spite of himself, he felt a grudging sense of respect beginning to bloom for the Mudblood.

"Swear it," she said abruptly.

He was momentarily caught off guard.

"Swear…?" he echoed uncertainly.

"Swear an Unbreakable Vow," she clarified. "Swear this ritual won't kill me or harm me in any way. Swear you'll help us destroy the horcruxes," she finished fiercely.

"I can't," he said irritably. "There are only two of us, in case you forgot. We need a Bonder." There went that horrifying blossom of respect, thank Salazar. That had been starting to unnerve him.

The Mudblood looked at him like he was slow.

"We can be both the Bonder and the Vow takers at once," she explained bossily. "We just hold hands and cast the spell at the same time, each with one hand on a wand. It should work."

"It _might_," Tom corrected. "It will be awkward, in any case." He sighed loudly. "Oh, very well, if you insist, Mudblood."

"_Hermione_," she interjected through gritted teeth.

"_Hermione_," he sneered back. "I will take the Unbreakable Vow. But you will take one as well."

She seemed flabbergasted.

"_Me_?" she said, her voice raising several octaves. "_I'm _not the one who can't be trusted, here!"

He just stared at her coldly, unflinchingly.

"Fine," she snapped. "What do you want me to swear?"

"That you will keep your word and do no harm to me now or after we destroy the horcruxes. Nor will you allow anyone else to, not Potter or Dumbledore or anyone!"

Her face twitched inexplicably at the end of his declaration.

"Right," she said softly, "then you will also have to swear to never harm any living soul ever again."

"What?" he snapped, astonished. "What about in self-defense? Do you expect me to just stand there and let myself be killed? Surely you realize once we agree to this pact and I start helping you and your merry rag-tag band of brothers, I will rise to number one on Voldemort's hit list."

She pursed her lips, apparently unwilling to concede his point.

"Alright. Then swear that you will never do anything evil to anyone ever again."

He rolled his eyes, secretly pleased. There was certainly a huge amount of room to get around that one.

"Agreed," he said impatiently. "I'm sick of this waste of time. Let's get on with the spells. Drop your wand," he ordered, gesturing towards her."

"_You_drop _**your** _wand, Riddle," she responded belligerently.

"Tom," he said, grinning a shark-like grin, "If I have to call you Hermione, you have to call me Tom."

"You're impossible!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "Fine, **_Tom_**. You drop your wand."

"Absolutely not," he answered calmly. "I propose we drop them simultaneously."

She nodded. "On three?"

"Yes."

"One."

Their eyes remained locked.

"Two."

Their wands wavered, their grips moving.

"Three."

Silence reigned.

"You didn't drop yours!" the Mudblood said accusingly.

"Neither did you, O honorable Gryffindor," he said calmly.

"Well, what the bloody hell are we going to do?" she snapped. "We can't just stand like this forever."

Tom stepped closer to her.

She automatically stepped back, alarmed, her eyes widening.

"What are you doing, Riddle?"

"Solving our problem," he said smoothly.

He took a step closer.

She stepped back again.

"Stop that!" she snapped, trying to sound brave. She didn't. Her voice had wavered quite obviously.

Tom stepped forward again, and this time when she stepped away from him, she backed straight into the statue of Slytherin. Which of course was exactly what he had intended for her to do.

He wanted to savor the moment of her panic, but clearly she was close to doing something rash, and he couldn't have his plans ruined again.

Their wand tips were now touching, and slowly, he moved slightly forward to the sound of the Mudblood's breath hitching, and swift as a cat, thrust his wand hand forward and grabbed her wrist holding the wand.

She predictably struggled against him, desperately twisting her wrist in an attempt to free her hand. He retaliated by twisting it in a direction it was not meant to go. She yelped and stopped fighting.

"Finally," he snapped, "you see reason. I'm just trying to make it so we both have a wand. Now, which one do you want to use?"

She stared at him disbelievingly.

"You were just…." She trailed off, taken aback.

"Well yes, you seem incapable of understanding that I am not trying to kill you, so now we are in the same situation," he said edgily, waving their wand hands around for emphasis. "For the last time, which wand, or I'll choose for you."

"The one you have," she said, "that's my main wand."

"Now," Tom started, by now thoroughly angry over the whole lengthy situation (she was supposed to cave easily, for Merlin's sake!) "I'll relax my grip on your wrist and you will move your hand so we both hold both wands. Then you will drop the extra to the ground. Understood?"

Blessedly, she remained silent, and responded solely with a sharp nod.

He relaxed his long, pale fingers from around her wrist, revealing red marks dug into her skin. Slowly, she moved her hand so they had both hands and wands joined in one grip. The extra wand dropped to the floor with a small chink, and rolled a few feet away.

"Right," he said bossily, "now we---"

"We have to hold it in our left hands," she interrupted him snottily. "The Unbreakable Vow must be done with the participants holding right hands, the Bonder touching the tip of the wand to the joint hands."

He refused to admit that he had forgotten that, and the two of them switched hands. They both grasped their right hands together, their joint left hands pointing the wand at them.

It was extremely awkward and goofy looking, and both would refuse to acknowledge or admit this silly stage of their confrontation if asked.

"Ready?" Riddle asked, panting from the uncomfortable angle.

"Ready," she reported, her arm going numb from the lack of blood flow.

"I'll begin, shall I?" he asked, plowing on before she could even open her mouth. "Will you, Hermione Granger, swear that you will not cause any harm to me or my body, nor will you suffer anyone else to do so?"

"I swear," she said resolutely, her eyes hard.

A brilliant red flame shot out of the wand, wrapping round their right hands.

"Will you, Hermione Granger, swear that you will not allow anyone to harm me in any way whatsoever?"

"I already said yes!" she snapped.

"Swear it!" he said fiercely, his eyes flashing a sinister red for a partial second.

"I swear," she answered, still annoyed.

A second flame shot out, twisting into place.

"My turn, Riddle," she said, a little too gleefully. "Do you, Tom Riddle, swear that you will cause no harm to me now or ever, and that the spells I will do to help you gain your body will cause me no harm?"

His face twitched, but he didn't respond.

"Well?" she snapped.

"I can't," he gritted out through his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead, "the second part of the ritual involves blood sharing, which involves cutting you."

"Oh," she responded, eyeing him suspiciously. "Fine. Do you, Tom Riddle, swear that you will cause no harm to me now or ever, and that the spells I will do to help you gain your body will cause me no harm, with the exception of a small cut to the skin?"

"I swear," he said intently, his eyes boring into hers.

A third flame wove into place.

"Do you, Tom Riddle, swear that you will help Harry, Ron and I find the horcruxes and destroy them?"

"I swear."

A fourth flame.

"Do you, Tom Riddle, swear that you will not harm anyone ever again, unless in the case of self-defense, and that you will never be evil again?"

"I swear." He barely restrained himself from smirking.

A fifth flame wove into place, lighting up their hands with an unholy red light.

"You swear all this on pain of death?" she demanded, her eyes blazing.

"Yes, yes, that's the whole point of this ritual," Tom said testily.

She glared at him.

He heaved a huge sigh, rolling his eyes.

"I swear, on pain of death, all of these things."

The sixth, last flame shot out, twisted round their hands, and linked them together.

As quickly as they had blazed, they went out. The wand tip went dull.

They dropped the wand to the ground without thinking, stretching out their uncomfortable muscles.

"Right," Tom said, briskly rubbing his hands together. "Let's get this over with, shall we?" Knowing full well what her reaction was going to be, he immediately removed his robe and started unbuttoning his jacket.

"What…what are you doing?" The Mudblood said in a quavering voice, her eyes huge.

He shucked his jacket to the ground, and began working on his tie, her eyes following his every movement.

"I'm preparing for the first ritual," he responded blithely. "You'll need to remove your clothing as well," he added, not quite able to restrain the corner of his mouth from twisting up.

"What kind of ritual is this, anyway, Riddle?" she said shrilly, clearly starting to panic as his tie joined the pile of discarded clothing at his feet, followed by his woolen vest.

"Oh, did I forget to explain it earlier?" he responded, pausing in his stripping to look her full in the face, mockingly. "The first step is an ancient ritual that will temporarily drain your power and restore mine."

"I heard that part," she snapped, her gaze ferocious once again. "What I want to know is why it involves you removing your clothing."

"Not just me, you as well," he said gleefully, smirking fully now. "Don't look so angry, Mudblood…excuse me - _Hermione- _I'm not particularly looking forward to this either."

"Looking forward to what?" she asked, her voice coming out far more frightened and shrewish then he was sure she meant it to.

Her gaze followed his hands, mesmerized, as he started unbuttoning his plain, white shirt. Interesting. She looked…_fascinated._ One could almost say…_hungry. _He paused in his actions, milking the reveal for all its worth.

"Maybe I'm wrong," he said arrogantly, "you seem to be quite interested in seeing my naked form. Perhaps you will enjoy this quite a bit."

Her eyes furiously snapped back to his.

"You insufferable conceited _prat_," she spat at him. "Naturally, I was watching you because I was shocked at your actions, which you STILL have not explained." She folded her arms and scowled.

He smiled, highly amused. Yes, she had cured his boredom _very _well. Such a predictable creature, a Gryffindor. Instead of answering her, his hands returned to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a deliberate, sensual slowness while he stared directly at her, his face purposefully unreadable.

Tom shrugged the shirt off of his shoulders, feeling the cool air of the Chamber caressing his bare torso. His skin prickled slightly, his nipples hardening. Bending over, he untied and removed his shoes and socks. The Mudblood's mouth was hanging open in shock, the rest of her completely frozen in place.

He paused again, staring at her. Deliberately, he undid the button on his trousers and then slowly brought his long, pale fingers to the zipper on them.

This seemed to finally snap the Mudblood out of her stupor.

"What the bloody_ hell_, Riddle!" she screeched. "Stop that right now!"

"Do you really want me to, Hermione?" he purred.

"Yes, you daft boy!" she shrieked.

"Tom," he responded smoothly, "it's Tom, remember? And you don't want me to stop, _Hermione_."

"Are you deaf?" she shrilled. "I said I do!"

"So you want to die an agonizing death, then?" he said politely.

"Yes, I—_what_?" she responded, baffled.

"The first part of the ritual," Tom said, speaking slowly, condescendingly, "the ritual you swore an Unbreakable Vow to do, requires us to copulate. This necessitates the removal of my clothing. It also entails the removal of your clothing. Now don't make me come over there and undress you, I _will _do it. Get a move on," he snapped.

"The first part of the ritual is…is…" she stammered, her face turning a blotchy purple.

Idly, Tom wondered when she was going to really blow her stack.

"Sex?" he said blandly. "Yes."

"You tricked me!" she screamed, pointing her finger in accusation at the half dressed boy in front of her.

"How?" he drawled. "You never asked me what the spell required. I fail to see how that is my fault."

Her mouth worked soundlessly.

Riddle took his opportunity, making his way slowly over to her. She was once again backed up against Salazar Slytherin's statue, and she looked more terrified than she had during their entire encounter.

"Surely," he murmured as he stopped inches in front of her, his gaze veiled, "surely you don't find me that repulsive? Surely, these virginal vapors are mostly an act, the last of your insipid Gryffindor sense of morals slipping away?"

She still seemed unable to speak; her breathing heavy.

He raised his bare arms, placing them on each side of her head, leaning in closer.

"I know it is false modestly, Hermione," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I know your virginal airs are all an act solely for me." He leaned in closer, their gazes locked, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath when he spoke. "I know, you see, about what you have been up to. With Ronald, late at night, when everyone thinks the two of you are asleep," he smiled fully.

"You…I…you…what…" she stammered, clearly at a loss at how a proper Gryffindor Miss would respond to such an accusation. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Riddle!"

"Tom," he snapped, his eyes turning dark. "For the last time, you will refer to me as _Tom_. And you know perfectly well what I am talking about. Why, it was just last night that you—"

"How dare you, Riddle!" she shrieked at him. "That isn't any of your business, you snooping, sneaking thief!"

"TOM!" he snapped, shoving her against the statue harder, rattling her.

"Fine…._Tom_," she said tremulously. "What were you doing there to begin with?" she asked, her tone defeated.

"It was you who led me there," he responded smoothly. "Right under the surface of your worry and fear, there it was," he paused, a mocking smile reappearing on his face. "Dear me, what would the virtuous Harry say?"

"You leave him out of this!" the Mudblood yelled. "You have no right to—" her voice caught, her breath hitching, when Tom slowly slid his hand up her side, underneath her jumper. Her skin was surprisingly soft, and warm.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he was going to enjoy this as well.

She let him run his hand silkily over her skin until he reached that horrible Muggle contraption the girls wore. Then she shoved him away, her breathing erratic.

"What are you playing at?" she asked shakily.

"The question is, what are _you _playing at, Hermione?" he volleyed back to her. "You are not fooling me, you are not fooling yourself. Stop fighting it."

She looked torn between self-righteous chastity and her real feelings, feelings that she had no cause to be ashamed of.

He stepped forward again, his lips barely brushing her neck as he left a soft trail of kisses up the side of it. She gave a small gasp.

"I can assure you," Tom murmured into her ear, "that you will enjoy this infinitely more than you ever have with Ronald."

"You…don't talk about Ron that way, you have no idea…" she responded weakly, as his hand reclaimed its place under her jumper.

"Reciting the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood during it last time, weren't you?" he responded amusedly, now both hands tugging at her jumper, drawing it over her head and her mess of hair.

"I…no…"she said, still weaker, as he resumed licking and sucking at her neck.

"Only got up to reason number four, hmmmm?" he responded, smiling against her neck. "I promise I will last far longer than that, _and _I will capture your full attention."

"I…Tom…" she responded feebly, apparently still needing some coaxing.

"No one has to know," he breathed against her lips, "and you have to do it anyway. _Stop fighting me_." As he fiercely said this last, he grasped her hands that had been dangling at her sides and placed them firmly on his chest, and captured her mouth with his.

That was all the encouragement she needed. She grabbed his biceps forcefully as they kissed, pulling him closer to her. As their kisses became more ferocious, a battle to get the upper hand, her nails scratched long, deep gashes along his back.

They parted for air, both breathing heavily. He locked eyes with the Mudblood, his hands fumbling at the strange Muggle pants she wore. He swore, grappling with the strange material, and looked down. Finally, he managed to rip the button through its hole, and unzip her trousers. He shoved them quickly down over her hips, exposing her knickers. She kicked her shoes off, and stepped out of her pants, now almost fully unclothed.

Both of their movements were frantic, both of them were breathing harshly. There was no need for words. The Mudblood grabbed him around his neck and pulled him against her, rubbing herself shamelessly against him. He moaned, shocked and aroused at her aggressive actions. Great Salazar, he knew the Weasley chump hadn't been satisfying her, but who knew this little minx lurked so closely beneath her deceptively prim exterior? Yes, there was no doubt of it now; he was going to enjoy himself _quite a lot. _In fact, he already was.

She bit his lip, hard, and sucked at the blood that welled there, her hips still moving against his own. Tom dug his hands between the wall she was up against and her back, grappling with the latch on her Muggle contraption. He knew it had a name, but he couldn't be bothered with thinking at the moment. As he finally got it unhooked, shoving the scrap of white material off of her body, her hands snaked between them, fumbling with the zipper of his trousers.

They both moaned against each other's mouths, as his hands met with her breasts, caressing and tugging on them roughly. He bit the junction of her neck and shoulder hard, drawing blood, which he sucked at eagerly. She gasped, and arched against him encouragingly, her own task finally accomplished as she shoved his trousers down.

Tom lowered himself slightly, his tongue sucking at every inch of bare skin he could find. His mouth closed around a nipple, his teeth tugging and nipping at the encouraging noises she was making. Slowly, he dropped further to his knees, his mouth blazing a trail down her body. She was pulling roughly at his hair, grinding herself against him urgently, the closer he got to her underwear. Pausing, he smirked against her lower abdomen at her frustrated hiss.

"Bloody hell, Riddle, stop playing around," she hissed at him, annoyed.

"Riddle?" he murmured at her, moving away from her slightly, much to her annoyance, his eyebrows raised.

"Tom, I meant Tom," she amended quickly, dragging him back closer to her.

He grinned his frightening grin, but it didn't seem to scare her anymore, judging by her irritated protests at what a "bloody tease" he was being.

Tom kissed her over her knickers, and she gasped loudly, and started to wind her leg around his neck to keep him in place. Her protests when he moved her leg off of his shoulder abruptly halted when he yanked her underwear down with one sharp movement and tossed them away.

"Oh, God, Tom…." The Mudblood moaned, her breath starting to come out in short pants.

He removed his mouth and stood right when he felt her on the brink, and she whined in protest. They kissed again frantically, and Tom started to shove down his boxers. It was at the most inopportune time possible, when he was grabbing her left leg and moving closer to his goal that his brain decided to kick in. Wasn't there something he was supposed to be doing….?

His other brain responded by telling him that yes there was, and would he please piss off so he could reach his warm destination?

He almost complied when his foot made contact with what he should've been remembering.

Tom wrenched his mouth away from the Mudblood's reluctantly, and stared down at his foot.

"Dammit, Tom…" the girl said breathlessly, shoving his underwear down for him.

He wanted very, very badly to comply with her wishes, but he had recollected the original purpose for screwing the Mudblood, so he bent down and picked up their discarded wand.

"Oh," she said, a bit of normalcy returning to her voice, "good idea, I forgot all about that. I wouldn't want to get pregnant."

It was his turn to look blank.

"What?" he said dumbly.

She stared at him, the lust receding somewhat from her gaze, the irritating superiority returning.

"The contraceptive charm, _Tom_?" she snapped. "Cast it on me."

He sneered at her, but complied as if he was intending to do so all along.

"Now drop it and come on," she demanded, reaching for him again.

Dear Salazar was this girl bossy. It probably shouldn't turn him on as much as it did.

"I have to…" he got out, before his breath hitched when she grabbed him by the head that was desperately trying to shut up his other brain. "I have to…stop that," he choked out, as she stroked him in an extremely distracting manner. "I…stop it, I can't think…" he said, moaning.

"Good," she said impatiently, attempting to guide him into her.

"No..." he said with a supreme effort. "I have to do… something…with the wand…" he gasped as she resumed her maddening stroking, "I can't….remember with you…doing that…" he managed to get out, his eyes half rolling back into his head.

She stopped her ministrations, and he gave a noise of protest.

"You told me to stop," she smirked at him, pleased with having him under control for the moment.

"I…right," he said, gathering himself. He looked down at the wand. What in Merlin's name was so important about the damn wand that he had made her stop that delicious movement again..?

"Oh!" the Mudblood suddenly exclaimed. "Don't you have to do that ritual?"

"Right!" he yelled, much louder than he meant to in his relief. "Right! The ritual!" Tom pointed the wand at himself, muttered a few words, pointed and cast a few spells in her direction, then rushed through the incantations, before dropping the wand like a hot potato.

"Where were we?" he said, regaining a bit of his smirk, before she wiped it off of his face by grabbing him, wrapping her leg around his waist, and joining them together.

The next few minutes were a blur.

It was all heat and thrusting and rubbing and licking and sucking and kissing and moaning, and before he knew it, Hermione was coming hard, shaking all around him, shattering to pieces with his name pouring from her mouth.

That was all it took to bring him over with her.

He slumped against her, the statue of his ancestor Salazar Slytherin holding them upwards. He had his head buried in her neck and her hair, sweat dripping off of both of them.

It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and reclaim his senses, and when he did, he saw that he was fully corporeal again, and she was pale and drawn, her breathing shallow and her eyes shut.

Tom vowed that he would never, ever reveal to anyone, especially to her, that in that moment, with her lips tinged slightly blue and her face deathly pale, he felt a cramp of worry in his gut.

Hurriedly, he slid out of her, and went to reclaim the wand. A soft noise made him turn back to her just in time to see her fall bonelessly to the ground, her limbs splayed in awkward angles.

His heart speeding up, he rushed back over, wand in hand. Conjuring a dagger, he murmured the incantations to the second spell, cutting his palm in the process. As the blood welled up, he leaned over her, grabbed her palm, and sliced it open as well. Tom mashed their hands together quickly, panic still gripping him at her awful state. The last words of the ritual passed through his lips, and he watched, breathlessly, as the color began to return to her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, dazed. They focused on the naked boy kneeling above her, who was grasping her hand.

"Tom?" she said groggily.

Snapping back to reality, he quickly slid the mask back on his face. There was no doubt it was the orgasm that had caused him to become sentimental. That, and the fear of agonizing death at the hands of the Unbreakable Vow if she were to die. The Mudblood meant nothing to him.

"Awake, Mudblood?" he sneered, jerking his hand from hers. He started gathering up his clothing, and jerking it back on roughly.

She sat up, and he ignored her, her in all her glorious nudity and rosy, glowing skin.

He ignored her as he straightened the collar of his shirt and fastened his tie around his neck, her eyes boring into him the whole time. Finally he couldn't handle the holes she was searing into him, and faced her with a smirk.

"Still unable to move?" he said snottily. "I understand. Clearly it was a shock to find out that sex could actually be pleasurable after that ginger-headed twit and his grotesque fumblings."

Still she said not a word, nor moved an inch.

"Don't worry, Mudblood," he said as meanly as he could, "I won't be telling your slobbering little blood traitor and Saint Potter about this. It's not as if I would ever want anyone to know."

"Know what?" she responded blandly, finally breaking her unnerving silence. "Know that you actually had feelings that weren't twisted and horrid for once in your life?"

He turned back to her, enraged.

"Feelings?" he sneered, his eyes cold and hateful. "Feelings of repulsion, you mean? I was trying to be nice, Mudblood, I know how delicate you are, but if you insist on deluding yourself let me inform you of the truth."

Tom finished dressing, pulling his robe on and staring at her with loathing.

"I only feel disgust that I had to stoop so low as to touch a piece of filth such as yourself to regain my body," he hissed.

He waited for her eyes to well up with tears, her face to drop in horror, her eyes to narrow in anger, anything. Instead, she stood, still fully nude and seemingly unaware of it.

"Odd," she said calmly, refusing to let him look away from her, "I thought you said you could easily kill me to restore yourself, but you chose this way as a favor to me."

For once, he had nothing to say.

"Even odder," she said, walking towards him slowly, apparently unaware how deliciously ripe she looked when she was staring at him like that; "that you claim you felt nothing but repulsion from touching me. Especially, _Tom_, after you found out I am an accomplished Occlumens. Did you really think I wasn't a Legilimens myself?"

She stopped in front of him, only inches away, her face tilted up to his. She leaned in to his ear, and he found himself unable to stop her.

"I know you were worried about me," she whispered into his ear. "I know how you really feel about me," and with that frightening proclamation, she pulled back, smiled at him fully for the first time, and grabbed him by his robes.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself pushed up against Salazar Slytherin's statue.

Really, the Mudblood's behavior was frankly unacceptable, but what was he to do when she was nude and kissing him? When she was ripping off his clothing in mere seconds?

He knew she could fix his boredom.


End file.
